Showing posts with label fae. Show all posts
Showing posts with label fae. Show all posts

Sunday, May 31, 2020

053120c


The garden path
paved with stones from an old cottage
during the night
the stones are uprooted
the cottage reassembled
in the morning
something has eaten the vegetables
replaced them with plants
wild and strange


Tuesday, April 17, 2018

041718c


very strange dream last night. It started with some aliens  who resembled the Fae and they were not necessarily dangerous to humans but might be.. It ended up with a poetry contest challenge between them and us. I don't remember exactly how, but I figured out it was a dream, and then I woke up. But wait, that's not all! I then had a series of at least five dreams in which I was competing in a poetry contest against some people who seemed a lot like the Norse gods. In the last of these, my online poetry writing group was also involved. In the case of each dream, at some point I realized it couldn't be reality, because I couldn't change any of the poems, couldn't see the keyboard, and things like that. After each dream I woke up and realized I was in bed and had been asleep and the clever poem writing I had done was all for naught. The funny thing is, this was a poem I was working on last night, and was not yet satisfied with.  Maybe I can recall a few scraps from this morning's dreaming to improve it.

Saturday, December 2, 2017

120217


Fields We Know


Faerie seeds don't thrive
this side of the Border,
faerie forbs aren't timid
seed launchers; coiled springs
kick like tiny veggie mules,
knocking into next week
all the magic and terror
of the fae forest, but our world's
a scorched earth of rusty
nails, bottle caps, and the like,
a deathtrap for our pointy-eared brethren.

The green-eyed buxom blonde
who compelled you in a dream
has withered away, her and her garden;
you can't stick a shovel in the ground
anywhere in Mundania without turning over
something that burns, oh yes, it burns, my precious,
so launch, brave seeds, launch away, but never hope,
because with all our irons in the fire,
germination isn't an option.

Tuesday, September 5, 2017

090517



Princess Tulip Ariel Jade*

* One of my daughters briefly changed her name to this.



Tulip Ariel Jade, called by her subjects “Sue,” had been sent to bed without her supper. Again.

“And it's totally not fair,” she said to herself, flopping down as hard as she could on the bed. The covers flopped up at the sides with satisfying vigor. So she did it again. And again, and again, and again, till a voice said "Stop!"
Lying across the bed, sheet rippled and ridged around her, Tulip froze. Silence settled over the room. Then she thought she heard a very soft scrape. She wriggled forward and flopped her head down to look under the bed, upside down, hair puddling on the floor and dust in her nose.
Dust bunnies. A Brat doll she'd been missing. And little people, all dressed up, dancing like in the old movies Mom liked. Dancing to no music.
The ladies wore frilly dresses that made bells around their legs, mostly in pastel colors. The men wore black suits that went well with the dresses. The people were all about 3 inches tall. They ignored her while she watched them, her face prickling as the blood pooled in her head. Finally she had had enough.
"Hey!" They kept on dancing. "I'm learning to dance," she said. "Ballet. Ms Michiko is very nice. She's from Houston."
Just then Tulip fell off the bed. "That didn't hurt," she announced. One of the ladies beckoned to her and smiled. Tulip had been wanting to join them, so she ran under the bed. The lady was just a little taller than Tulip.
"My name is Lady Parimore," the dancer said. "And you?" She raised one eyebrow (Tulip had once tried for a week to learn how to do that).
They let her join the dance. One of the gentlemen didn't have a partner, and he taught her the steps. He was very handsome and just her height, with black hair, green eyes, and a smile on one side of his mouth, like Uncle Rudy. He said his name was Mr. Pin. He wore a black suit, a ruffled white shirt, and a pink bowtie that matched her dress. The other men's bowties matched their partners' dresses too. And now there was music. She flew through dance after dance. It was wonderful.
At last the dancing was over. Mr. Pin whispered in her ear: "Come with us."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"But what about my things?"
"You'll have new things, even better ones," said Lady Parimore.
"Will I be a princess?"
"Oh, yes," Mr. Pin said.


Publ. Daily Cabal 2009

Friday, April 14, 2017

041417b



icemaker back from the dead
small miracles
thanks to the Winter Queen

Friday, September 23, 2016

092316b


Under the hill




time passes quickly
endless parties, dances, feasts
when you come out your mother-in-law,
landlord, boss, Sheriff with a grudge
they're all dead a century or more
sounds like a good deal all around!

Wednesday, April 13, 2011

or did I mean fantaqueue?

my mail shredded
over the eldritch marsh
brownie justice
I'll not forget
the bowl of milk again

Thursday, December 9, 2010

Sunday, February 22, 2009

fibonacci-no ku

old
tub
docking
seed of thorns
sensors sound alert
acorn thicket boars embargo
barn door slides shut with a snick on Wood and Underhill

Thursday, February 19, 2009